Lightning Strikes
by Xeritas
Summary: After his brother, Michael, is declared the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry is sent to live with the Dursleys. They, however, send him off to an orphanage, where his story truly begins, and his power awakens.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, even as much as I wish I do. This story, however, is my own, despite any and all similarities it may have toward other stories like it.

A/N: I will admit, I have read several stories of the "Wrong Boy-Who-Lived" and "Abused", possibly even a few "Taken In By the Dark Side" types of stories. I would like to consider this, ignoring any and all similarities, as a completely new story. Enjoy.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts and other assorted titles, looked down at the two infants before him. James and Lily had been gone for the night, leaving their Secret Keeper, Peter Pettigrew a.k.a Wormtail, to watch the twins. Harry, the eldest by ten minutes, had black hair and green eyes. His brother, Michael, had auburn hair and hazel eyes, both boys being the exact opposite of their parents in appearances...Harry with James' looks and Lily's eyes...Michael with Lily's hair and James' eyes. The prophecy children, these two were...which is why it made it so difficult for Albus to figure out which one it meant. Voldemort had attacked the house, marking one...but which one?

Harry had a scar above his right eye in the shape of a lightning bolt...while Michael had a scar in the shape of a LV on his cheek...everyone knew Voldemort took pride in himself and his bloodline, so it made sense he would mark the boy with his initials!

"Lily...James...may I present to you, Michael Alexander Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived!"

James gave a grin at the moniker, looking back at Lily, who seemed worried.

"What's wrong, Lils?"

"This is going to get lots of media attention, James...I'm worried about Harry..."

"What about him? He'll be as supportive as we are of Michael, no worries!"

"Actually, James...I had an idea." Albus cut in. "You have a sister, Petunia, do you not Lily?" At her nod, he continued. "As you said, Michael is bound to gain media attention. So, in a preemptive movement of ensuring that there is no sibling rivalry or worries about Harry being left out, why not have him live with Petunia? She has a son about Harry's age, they could grow up together, and when Harry goes to Hogwarts, he and Michael could meet face to face."

"It..seems sound.." Lily replied, unsure. James, however, was not so unsure.

"It's a great plan! I say we do it. Harry and Michael could correspond through the owl post, and meet at Hogwarts, it's brilliant!"

Still very unsure, Lily nodded her assent, hoping this wouldn't, couldn't, backfire on them.

* * *

The night was cold, the moon shone brightly upon the utterly normal street of Privet Drive. Inside the white walls of Number Four, a small child no older than the age of five lay curled in a ball beneath a thin, threadbare blanket in the cupboard under the stairs. His emerald green eyes stared blankly at the space in front of him. Something was about to change...he could feel it. The change wouldn't be pleasant.

Several hours later as the sun rose into the morning sky, the child, Harry, was jerked out of a light sleep by a shrill voice outside the door.

"Get up and get out here!"

That was different...his Aunt or Uncle usually just shouted at him to make breakfast and get the chores done...odd. Slowly, Harry rose from the nearly nonexistent mattress beneath him and dressed, flicking an errant spider from his clothes and opening the cupboard door. Squinting slightly from behind his taped glasses as his eyes adjusted to the light, Harry stood confused for a brief moment. Breakfast (for the Dursleys) was already on the table, his Uncle Vernon standing by the door impatiently.

"Come on, boy. Haven't got all day."

"Where are we..." he asked before being interrupted by the large man.

"Don't ask questions! Let's go." Vernon said, walking out the door. Blankly, Harry followed, not anxious for another beating after the one the day before. He'd been whipped with a studded belt Vernon had, the metal cutting and bruising his back.

"We've decided that we've had enough of you, freak, so I'm taking you to an orphanage." Vernon spoke bluntly, making Harry's eyes widen in shock. Harry knew there was no love lost between him and the Dursleys, but they were his only remaining family. Then again, perhaps he could be adopted by another...? That was a best case scenario, he admitted. Silently, the two entered the car, Vernon immediately starting it and driving away.

By Harry's estimation, it had been at least twenty, maybe thirty minutes from their starting position until they stopped. Exiting the vehicle, Harry unconsciously grimaced at the building. A dirty grey, the place nearly screamed "filthy" and "unpleasant". Prince Orphanage, the sign above the door read. Walking after the fat man whom Harry unwillingly called Uncle (you couldn't pick family, after all), the two entered the building, Harry noting the thick layer of dust that covered nearly everything in sight. Vernon was speaking with someone Harry assumed was the owner, an older woman with grey hair and sharp blue eyes, a grimacing sneer on her lips.

"I'm dropping off this boy, Harry's his name." Vernon said, shooting an irritated glance back toward the mentioned child.

"A last name, not that it really matters." she replied.

"Potter."

"Hmph. Now, any problems with him? Sickness, weakness, etc.?"

"He's a freak...makes things happen around him."

"I see...alright, we'll take him off your hands. Sign here."

Harry watched as Vernon eagerly signed the forms, cutting down on his emotions until nothing was left but a blank stare as the woman led him into a room.

"This'll be your room until you get adopted, or leave. Either way, I don't care." she said, sending him into the room with a vicious kick to the back. "Watch yourself around here."

Oh...this will be fun, Harry thought sarcastically.

* * *

Blood spilled from his lips as another foot caught him in the ribs. The painfully thin seven year old grunted as a muscled arm raised him from the dirt, broken ribs shifting. A mere glance of shaggy brown hair and blue eyes were all he saw before a fist slammed into his cheek, sending him to the ground once more. Marcus Thompson, a fifteen year old boy who hated Harry, had walked into the field and taken his chance.

As a boot stomped onto his back, Harry's eyes narrowed. Ever since he'd come here, he'd been beaten. Truly, it was no better than the Dursley's at Number Four, but he'd held out hope it might stop...and it didn't. The emerald green eyes blazed, something inside the child snapping. Marcus rolled Harry onto his back, catching a glimpse of startling green as the eyes locked on to his blue ones. The boy was muttering something under his breath, and Marcus motioned for everyone to get back. He'd seen the freak do some things, like levitating a book and other freakish actions...he didn't want any part of that. Harry's eyes shot open, something like lightning coursing through the older boy's body. Harry watched impassively as Marcus began to convulse, the muscular teen held entirely by Harry's will...and he wasn't sure that he wanted to stop.

The other boys backed away, some running in fear. Silent screams issued from the teen's mouth as Harry kept his eyes locked on to Marcus' form, the writhing body making a small grin erupt on the normally blank face of the raven-haired child. Something like a signal began to ring in Harry's mind, the seven year old breaking the eye connection instinctively, start to breathe heavily. He stared at all the surrounding people, locking eyes with each one of them.

"I can do this and more, you know...do you want me to?"

Frightened shakes of the head met his question, making a smirk cross Harry's lips. After years of being beaten, he finally held some power. He knew how to use this...ability, the knowledge simply appearing...like magic.

* * *

On his eighth birthday, a new orphan arrived. She was thin, with dirty blonde hair and blue eyes, and would've been quite pretty if she hadn't had blood streaking her face and clothes. It hadn't been but a week until he'd seen Marcus make a move on the thirteen year old girl.

Harry watched impassively, his eyes cold, as Marcus shoved the girl against a wall. Kaylee, her name was, thirteen and the one Marcus had chosen for a victim...apparently he'd forgotten the lesson Harry gave him that day...time for a new one. Harry decided the time to intervene was now, Marcus attempting to rip the girl's shirt.

"Marcus." he called out, ice lacing his voice. Freezing, the sixteen year old bully and would-be rapist turned toward the eight year old who wielded mysterious power.

"Harry...look, she's mine. I'm not putting up with any shit from you."

Harry smirked, feeling electricity crackle in his fingers. One thing he'd learned how to do over the year is harness that ability, causing faint black lines to move in a jagged pattern up his arms and lightning, raw electricity, to course through his body. He could fire bolts of lightning from his hands. Aside from the initial freak-out, Harry had put his mind to mastering the ability, and done so, within the year. Every time he used it, the lines got darker. Raising a hand, he willed the electricity forward, the black lightning flying from his palm. There was a difference in the instinctive ability he'd done that day and this one...and that was this was much more powerful...

"I beg to differ, Marcus. You see, Kaylee is going to be under my protection, I think. And as I all but run this place, you will listen...or you will die."

Harry let up on the power after a few moments, delighting in the weak cough of the older boy.

"Fuck...you...Harry."

Cocking his head to the side, Harry smirked once more, shrugging.

"No thank you...but here's for the insult." Harry replied, lightning coursing from his hand once more, electrocuting the teen.

* * *

One year since that day, and Marcus made yet another move...toward Harry, this time. It wasn't like the two were rivals or anything either! Harry was nine years old, Marcus seventeen...granted, Harry was able to summon and manipulate lightning, but even so...it didn't make sense. Things were different this time...Harry was leaving, regardless of what anyone else thought. Despite his ability, people still slapped him around when they could, and it was surprisingly often. No more...not again.

Dodging a strike from Marcus, Harry asked,

"Why are you even doing this? I mean, really, what have I done to you? Other than putting you in your place and shocking you every now and then when I feel you need it, what have I done to you?"

"Maybe I just feel like killing you, you little freak!" Marcus shouted, pulling a knife from his jacket. Harry's eyes narrowed, deciding to end it now before anything could happen. So Marcus wanted to kill him...Harry determined his best option was to take him out, and permanently.

"Fine...die then."

Harry let the lightning loose, the black tendrils of electricity sending thousands upon millions of volts through the irritant's body, Harry watching impassively as Marcus convulsed, froth spilling from his lips, a crazed, pained look in his blue eyes. Not letting up, Harry kept the power going as the light faded from Marcus's eyes, burn marks appearing on his body. Harry cut the connection, striding from the room toward the front door of the building. Janice, the owner, stopped him at the door.

"Where do you think you're going, freak?"

"I'm really getting tired of hearing that...move, you old hag. I'm leaving." Harry replied coldly, vision blurred from his lack of glasses, having broken them during the first few beatings. Slipping past the elderly woman, Harry walked through the open doorway out into the streets of London.

* * *

Chapter 1 is finished...so...what do you think? Send a review or two my way!


	2. Diagon Alley, Part One

Chapter 2: Diagon Alley

* * *

Harry leaned against the orphanage wall while he compiled his options. Living on the street was definitely not one, nor did he have any relatives save the Dursley's he could stay with...unless his family was alive and no one informed him of that particular fact. Harry snapped out of his thoughts by a strange feeling in the air...an electric tingle that did not belong to him. It was a foreign feeling, an odd sensation that sent a shiver down his spine. Noting the nearest street-sign, Charing Cross Road, Harry watched the people around him, looking for any sign that they felt it as well.

After a few minutes of this, Harry determined two things. One, none of these people, save a man in a peculiar green cloak, felt the sensation. Two, there was a run-down building that the cloaked man had entered that no one else seemed to see...their eyes slid from one store to the next, ignoring the place. Harry followed his gut feelings that told him to enter the building, and was pleasantly surprised. It was a dusty old bar, a toothless aging man leaning against the counter, idly cleaning a glass.

Tom stared at the thin child for a moment, watching his movements. He was wary of the people around him, seemingly hesitant to ask any questions...an abused child, perhaps? He'd seen quite a few come through this old place, watching everything from behind the bar. Looking intently at the boy's features, something clicked.

"You're James and Lily Potter's child, aren't you?"

Harry stared back at the bartender for a brief moment, nodding in reply to his question. That was likely the only piece of information he'd ever gotten out of the Dursley's, mostly because they liked to rant about how James was a drunk and Lily a freak. He froze momentarily when Tom responded.

"Well, bet they'll be glad to see you."

Harry raised an eyebrow before replying.

"They're alive?"

Tom snorted, putting down the glass.

"Of course they're alive! Dunno why they wouldn't be."

"I wouldn't know...I've never laid eyes on them."

At this point, every set of eyes in the bar was centered on Harry. Harry Potter, brother of the Boy-Who-Lived, never laid eyes on his family?

"Next you'll be tellin' me you don't know who the Boy-Who-Lived is either..." Tom muttered, picking up another glass to clean.

"Actually...no, I don't know. I don't even really know where 'here' is."

"'Here', is the Leaky Cauldron, entrance to Diagon Alley. The Boy-Who-Lived...is your brother, Michael Potter."

A short flash of auburn hair and hazel eyes swept through Harry's mind. Shaking his head to clear the image away, he asked,

"Diagon Alley...what is it and how do I get to it?"

"It's the shopping center, really, for the area 'round here. If you want to go in, follow me."

Harry felt the lightning in his core hum with power as he gazed upon the wall. Something behind there connected with his power...and he wanted to know what. Harry watched closely as Tom removed a thin stick of wood from his pocket, counted the bricks in a specific way (three up, two across), and tapped one with the stick sending the bricks spiraling outward.

"Welcome...to Diagon Alley."

Nodding toward the bartender, Harry started forward into the Alley, staring at shop signs and products, making a list in his mind. He turned back at a loud call, seeing Tom wave at him.

"You'll be wanted to go to Gringotts first! Go to the big white building!" he called. Harry faced back toward the Alley, eyes locked on the white exterior of Gringotts.

After minutes of weaving through a crowd of similarly robed and cloaked people, Harry stood before the silver doors of Gringotts Bank, an expressionless face set. He walked through the doors, scanned the warning, and pushed through regardless. Almost immediately he lost himself in the masses, the loud men and women drowning out whatever noise could be heard. He watched the goblins, having heard the term mentioned, measuring gold, gems, marking ledgers, and attempted to step in an empty queue before a bearded goblin pulled him away.

"Follow me, Mr. Potter...we've news for you, and you alone."

Suppressing an urge to growl at being told to follow someone once more, he moved behind the magical banker, following him into a well-furnished office. Sitting in a leather chair, the goblin observed Harry, a smirk on his face.

"Mr. Harry James Potter...we at Gringotts have been awaiting your arrival, yet you are earlier than we expected. Could you explain why, or does it need to be said?"

Harry leaned back in his seat, narrowing his Killing Curse green eyes at the goblin.

"I would ask for your name for I state or explain anything, sir."

"That is wise...know who you are dealing with. I am Ragnok, Director of Gringotts."

Taking a moment to look over the goblin, Harry documented the Director across from him. Ragnok was taller than the average goblin, with a scarred, bearded face carrying a vicious smirk. He was covered in plain chain mail and plate armor, a sword and several knives hanging from his person.

"Director...best person to tell of any, I suppose. I am here, early as you said, because I ran from the orphanage I was in." Ragnok raised an eyebrow. "After years of being beaten by relatives and inhabitants of that cursed place, I decided to leave. Granted...I had to kill a man before I left, but I ran all the same." His left brow joined the right in a surprised look. The child, Harry, had to be no older than nine, yet nonchalantly talked about killing a man...peculiar. The prophecy child he is then...it is time.

"We awaited your arrival because of several pieces of business that deal with you needing to be done immediately. With your consent, we can do all of these today. Do you agree?"

"I do." Harry replied, not missing a beat. Ragnok pulled parchment and a runed knife from the desk he sat behind, putting them slowly on the desktop.

"Cut your finger, and place three drops onto the parchment."

Swiftly, Harry cut his finger and dripped the blood onto the material, the injury closing within seconds. As he set the knife down, Ragnok handed him the parchment.

* * *

Harry James Potter

Heir To: Potter, Black

Can Claim as Lord: Thanatos, Slytherin

* * *

"What are these...Thanatos, Slytherin?"

"Slytherin is one of the Four Founders, one of four who created the magical school Hogwarts, and one of the greatest wizards to live. People say he went dark and abandoned the others, but stories do get twisted throughout history. Thanatos however...that is an entirely different matter. A man came in one day, and requested his House and Lordship go to you...he even gave your name. This was about...four hundred years ago, I believe. My predecessor arranged it all. Claiming the Slytherin lordship requires emancipation or your majority at 17, however...the Thanatos lordship will emancipate you. So, will you take up these Houses?"

Harry thought for a moment. Taking up the lordship of these houses will emancipate him, ensuring no one will be able to meddle in his affairs...and possibly give him a step up on his brother and parents, should they ever meet. Lightning flickered in his palms as he thought about his 'family'...oh, he hoped to meet them soon.

"I will."

"Slice your palm with the dagger, and repeat after me. I, Harry James Potter, hereby accept the title of Lord Thanatos and all it entails."

"I, Harry James Potter, hereby accept the title of Lord Thanatos and all it entails." A bright silver flash emitted from Harry's neck, a black chain with a ring appearing around it. The ring was a strange black metal, with a scythe and raven emblem on the top.

"Now, do the same for Slytherin, replacing the House names." Ragnok said, watching Harry. This would be the first time in centuries someone took up a Founder's House...intriguing. Harry did so, the silver flash disappearing with another ring on the chain, thunder rumbling in the office. Removing another sheet of parchment, Ragnok instructed Harry.

"As with the last, drip the blood three times on the parchment. This will show any abilities you have, or those that are blocked, unawakened, etc."

Harry sliced himself again, dripping the blood on the parchment and picking it up.

* * *

Harry James Potter

Abilities: Awakened: Parseltongue

Lightning Elemental

Unawakened / Blocked: Wandless Magic - Blocked

Metamorphagus - Blocked

Animagus Form - Blocked

Note: Magical Core - 70% Blocked

* * *

Ragnok stared at the parchment, scanning it furiously. Elementals were rare, exceedingly so, even in the Wizarding World! The Element itself bonds to the wielder...and the Elements were extremely picky things. The child being both a parselmouth and an Elemental would paint him in a very 'dark' light, so to speak. The rest needed to be unblocked...especially the 70 percent of his core.

"Come, Mr. Potter. We must get these unblocked before we move further." Rising from his seat, the young wizard followed the Director through the doors into the winding hallways where one would be lost if not for a goblin escort. The doors they stopped in front of were a deep blue, etched with runes. Ragnok turned toward the nine year old Harry. "I will not lie to you. This will be painful, especially unblocking your core."

"I've likely felt worse, Ragnok." Harry snorted, pushing open the doors. The room was comprised of black stone, a ritual circle sitting dead center, six goblins surrounding it.

"Sit in the center of the circle, and clear your mind as best you can. It will make it easier." Ragnok suggested, leaning against the doorway. Harry stepped toward the circle, kneeling in the center. He began to slow his breathing, wiping away the images in his mind, shutting down emotion. When all that was left was a blank mask, the goblins began to chant, magic swirling around Harry's thin frame. As the current surrounded him, pain began to shoot through his body, a piercing agony erupting in his chest, the magic swirling about him more ferociously, weaving through the air. A loud 'crack' sounded, Harry's body slumping to the floor unconscious. Finishing the guttural chant, a robed goblin turned to Ragnok.

"It's done...the abilities are unblocked, but his core took the longest...everything is unblocked now. Shall we put him in your office, or a recovery room?"

"In my office, I think. His body will be going through a few changes as well, and we may soon get this all done."

* * *

Harry awakened with a start, jerking upright on a black leather sofa. He closed his eyes as a pounding in his head made itself known, Harry hissing irritably in Parseltongue.

"Glad to see you're awake, Mr. Potter. It would seem that in addition to unlocking your abilities and such, your magical core healed your body of injuries and past problems. You're now a few inches taller than average, and filled out a slight bit more. Now...this, I believe, is where I leave you. Our business is concluded, so...good day, Mr. Potter. I took the liberty of removed a few hundred galleons from your trust vault in case you plan to explore Diagon Alley."

"It's much appreciated, Ragnok. Thank you." Harry muttered, staggering to his feet. As he stood, Harry caught his reflection in a mirror. Indeed, he was a few inches taller than average, and no longer a malnourished type of thin. His hair had grown out as well, reaching just above mid-back. Shaking himself to remove a few lingering aches, Harry grabbed the money pouch from Ragnok's desk and made his way out, a nondescript goblin leading him back to the entrance of the bank. Just before he exited the bank, he heard a voice calling his name. Turning sharply, he saw Ragnok approaching, a silvery sphere in his hand.

"Take this, and learn it. When you have memorized it and know it completely...smash it. It is for your ears, and your ears alone."

"What is it?"

"..a prophecy, concerning you. A goblin prophecy, not the fake one you will inevitably hear from the fraud Trelawney and Dumbledore."


	3. Diagon Alley, Part Two

Third chapter down...I think it's coming along nicely.

Disclaimer: This is not my world, I'm just playing in it. J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter, I do not.

Chapter 3: Diagon Alley, Part Two: Prophecies and Supplies

* * *

It was a peculiar thing, Harry decided, looking once more at the sphere. This one tiny object held what seemed to be his destiny...

* * *

_Lightning will bond with the dark_

_The dark will bond with the lightning_

_Power will be given to the heir_

_Creatures of death will bend their knees_

_Their Lord returning from absence_

_He is no stranger to death,_

_Returning once, twice,_

_Becoming it's Master._

_Evil will fall before him,_

_The Dark Lord struck down by thunder_

_Beware of the Light Lord and his manipulations_

_For they lead down a path none can follow._

* * *

It was a peculiar bit of information, Harry thought. Committing it to eternal memory, he broke the orb, wisps of silver smoke wafting through the room, fading. Casting his mind to the goblin prophecy, Harry sifted through the lines, creating a mental list.

1. He'd bond with someone from a dark family, perhaps? It's unlikely he'd bond with the dark itself, as comforting as it was.

2. That someone will bond with him, a rather redundant line, he believed.

3. Power will be given to the heir. He was the heir of Slytherin and Thanatos, now Lord...

4. Creatures of death will bend their knees. Some type of creature will bow to him, acknowledging him as a leader or lord.

5. Their Lord returning from absence. If he was the lord it spoke of, then he would be, indeed, returning from an absence. He started in this world, now he's coming back to it.

6. He is no stranger to death. He'd killed before, Harry knew this. It was extremely likely he would in the future as well.

7. Returning once, twice. As far as he knew, Harry had never died before, much less twice...perhaps the memory of that night...?

8. Becoming it's Master. A Master of Death...that was something to look in to...but where to start?

9. Evil will fall before him. There is a dark lord on the loose, and apparently he's going to kill him.

10. The Dark Lord struck down by thunder. Harry was a lightning elemental, so apparently he's killing He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

11. Beware of the Light Lord and his manipulations. Somewhere out there is someone opposing Voldemort, and apparently a manipulator.

12. For they lead down a path none can follow. Avoid the manipulations, pretty much a continuation of 11.

Giving a brief sigh, he shook himself slightly and exited the Cauldron, waving to Tom. Back in to Diagon Alley once more, it seemed.

As he stepped through the entrance way to the Alley, Harry was accosted by a large tawny owl, a heavy letter written on parchment falling into his hand. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the front of the letter read. Tearing open the envelope, he removed the two pages from within, scanning them over.

* * *

_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore, _

_ Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, Internation Confed. of Wizards_

_ Dear Mr. Potter, _

_ We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Enclosed is a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1st. We await your owl by no later than July 31st._

_ Yours sincerely,_

_ Minerva McGonagall_

_ Deputy Headmistress_

* * *

An acceptance letter then...expected, but still somewhat exciting to actually read. Flipping to the next, he looked down the list of supplies.

* * *

_First Year students will require:_

_Three Sets of Plain Work Robes (Black)_

_ One Plain Pointed Hat (Black)_

_ One Pair of Protective Gloves (Dragon hide or similar)_

_ One Winter Cloak (Black, silver fastenings)_

_ Please note that all student's clothes should carry name-tags._

_ Books:_

_ Standard Book of Spells (Grade One) - Miranda Goshawk_

_ A History of Magic - Bathilda Bagshot_

_ Magical Theory - Adalbert Waffling_

_ Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration - Emeric Switch_

_ One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi - Phyllida Spore_

_ Magical Drafts and Potions - Arsenius Jigger_

_ Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them - Newt Scamander_

_ The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection - Quentin Trimble_

_Other Equipment: _

_ 1 Wand_

_ 1 Cauldron (Pewter, Standard Size 2)_

_ 1 set of glass or crystal phials_

_ 1 telescope_

_ 1 set of brass scales_

_ Students may also bring an Owl OR a Cat OR a Toad._

_ PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS._

* * *

Supplies to get, and all can be purchased here in the Alley, Harry mused. Looking around, Harry noted a robe shop just across from him. Moving at a leisurely pace, he walked into the building, unaware of how quickly he would soon want to leave.

He'd not been here for two minutes, and Harry already felt like killing someone...or maiming them, at the least. A platinum blonde boy sat next to him on a stool, being fitted for robes, and had asked in the most obnoxious tone various questions, like what house he was going into, if he played Quidditch, and most insultingly, who his parents were, asking if "they were one of ours". That question had almost caused Harry to snap and shock the blonde. He hoped to God above he wasn't in the house this...Draco Malfoy went into. Of course, he didn't want to be associated with his parents, given that they'd apparently forgotten about him...leaving him in a damn orphanage...

He snapped out of his thoughts by the assistant tapping him on the shoulder, telling him that he was done. Harry rose to his feet quickly, exiting the store and storing the shrunken robes in his pockets. After a brief trip to the apothecary and various other stores, the irritation and murderous intent died within him, if only for now. Supplies purchased, shrank, and feather-weight charmed, courtesy of the shopkeepers, Harry made his way into one of the last places on his list...Ollivander's wand shop.

The nondescript building only stood out as his shop by the sign and single wand in the window, laying innocently on a plush purple cushion. Dust floated through the air as Harry opened the door and walked inside, the gloominess of the interior belaying a mysticality that only the magical foci could provide.

"I knew I would be seeing a Potter soon, but you were not the one I expected." A voice cut through the silence behind him, Harry spinning on his heel and dropping into a crouch, sparks warping around his fingertips. A heavy scent of ozone spread throughout the store as Harry's magic filled him, the power rushing through his veins in shock and panic. To be snuck up on was not good...he had to be more alert, Harry chastised himself.

Silver eyes widened at the power the child exuded, power that by all rights should have ripped the boy apart from the inside! There was something either blessed or divine about this child...the lost Potter seemed to most definitely be someone not to be trifled with.

"I see...perhaps I should've expected you. This will be fun, I believe...it's been far too long since I have had a challenge." Ollivander smiled. The power of the witch or wizard seemed to be directly proportional to the difficulty in matching a wand to them...if this was truly the case, then it would absolutely be an experience. "Which is your wand arm?"

Harry merely raised his right arm in response, watching Ollivander intently. With a tap from his wand, the elderly wandmaker sent the tape measure to do it's job, measuring seemingly random places on the boy's body. How long his arm was, around his waist, around his head, between his nostrils...Harry was almost ready to try and set the thing on fire before it dropped to the floor, finished. A line of cases lay on the table in front of him, each revealing a different wand.

"I decided to do things a bit differently than I usually do. Instead of choosing wands that I believe would suit you, there is a selection that would be the closest match. See what one calls to you."

A short few steps took Harry to the counter's edge, his hand hovering above the first wand.

"Ash and unicorn hair, eleven inches." Harry felt no connection, not even a whisper. He moved to the next, and received the same. This continued in the same way until he was down to the last two, two different wands that looked the opposite but felt suprisingly similar in magic. Waving his hand over them, he was strangely saddened at the lack of reaction.

Garrick Ollivander was in a state of confusion. These wands were the closest matched to him, and the last were a near perfect match...but there was no reaction. Wait, he thought suddenly, ideas flashing through his mind. The holly and ebony wands, separate, had either a weak or nonexistent connection to the child...together...?

Silently, he removed the two wands and took them into a back room, ignoring Harry's narrowed eyes that were filled with confusion and irritation. Shutting the door, Ollivander laid the wands down on his worktable, drawing his own to work a special branch of magic. It was widely regarded amongst wandmakers that woods could not be blended...they were wrong. He had found a way. That the cores were the same only made it easier on him.

Outside, Harry paced, thoughts rushing through his mind. Ollivander had removed the two that had the slightest connection to him...they felt right, even with no reaction. The old man _was_ a wandmaker, and could likely create something with the two that would have a reaction...now only to wait.

* * *

One and a half hours later, the door creaked open, the elderly wandcrafter staggering out, holding a new creation in his hands. A triumphant grin lit up the man's face as he held it up for Harry's inspection. It was a beautiful piece, Harry thought.

The light brown and black woods wound around each other, blending at the tip. The ebony wood also composed the handle, jagged silvery marks etched their way from handle to tip, looking eerily similar to his own markings. It was harmonious and chaotic, light and dark combining in a perfect symphony of magical focusing.

Slowly, almost reverently, Ollivander handed the wand to Harry. It was perhaps once any fifty years he created a wand with blended woods...but they always paid off. Grasping the handle of the unique wand, Harry gritted his teeth as a massive pulse of magic resonated through him, showers of sparks floating from the tip of the wand: black, silver, white...colors not normally seen. Indeed, Mr. Potter would be quite powerful...

"Curious.."

"What's curious?" Harry asked, speaking for the first time since entering the shop. The wand he held gave a sense of content completion, like a part of him had been filled, a part he'd not known existed.

"This wand contains a feather from a phoenix that gave exactly one other. That feather, why, it resides in the wand...that gave you that scar. Yew and phoenix feather, thirteen inches. Excellent for the Dark Arts. He did great things, you know...terrible, yes, but great."

"How much do I owe you?" Harry interrupted Ollivander's musings. The elderly wizard softly laughed, his mystical tone prevalent in every word spoken.

"I should charge extra for the blending, but I will not. You owe me nothing, Mr. Potter. Nothing, that is, but a simple request to grant."

Raising an eyebrow, Harry replied,

"And that request would be...?"

"I understand he might be family, but knock the Boy-Who-Lived down a few pegs. Even I, far from the media, have seen his image far, far too many times to count...he and his father both."

A vicious smirk met Ollivander, the eleven-year-old turning to the door, responding over his shoulder.

"Don't worry...I will."

* * *

The sun fell slowly below the horizon as Harry sat in a dirty booth at the Leaky Cauldron, conversing with a man across from him. The man, robe-wearing and with sandy hair, covered with scars, was one Remus J. Lupin. Remus had used the floo to enter, and while dusting off grime and soot, had locked eyes with a boy that had a distinct Potter look, coupled with the unique eyes of Lily Evans. It had taken him all but two seconds to realize this was Harry James Potter, the lost Potter heir and brother to the Boy-Who-Lived...not to mention the child Lily had spent the last ten years fretting over.

On his turn to floo once more, back to Potter Manor this time, Harry had waved him over to the booth and motioned for Remus to take a seat. The last ten minutes had been spent explaining his past to the uncle he'd wished he had. Pain showed visibly in the werewolf's eyes as Harry described the murder attempt by Marcus, and the subsequent self-defense that led to his, meaning Marcus', death. He wasn't sure why, but Harry felt he could trust the man.

"You're an elemental? Truly? Merlin, elementals are so rare nowadays that they're almost feared when they do come along...rightfully so, in some cases." Remus stated, staring at Harry. He simply nodded in acquiescence. "However, if word gets out you are a Parselmouth, then you **will** be feared. It's supposedly the sign of 'dark wizards', given that both Slytherin and Voldemort could speak it. And speaking of Slytherin...I noted the rings on the chain. That signet is very recognizable and could invoke either respect or fear, depending on who it is you show. I would recommend keeping them hidden. As for your metamorph ability, I know of someone that could help, if you wish.

"Appreciate the help, Mr. Lupin. I would be honored to have such a teacher."

Remus gave a wry smile as he replied.

"Remus, Harry...just Remus. I'll pass the message along to Tonks. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go and punch James for his idiocy."

"Oh, please do, Remus...tell him it was from me." But not where I am, the unspoken message read.

Lupin nodded as he rose, striding toward the floo. As he disappeared, Harry stood as well, walking quickly over to Tom, who greeted with a warm look.

"Mr. Potter, what can I do for you on this fine evening?"

"Do you have any rooms available, preferably one I could stay in until Hogwarts opens? I can't exactly go back to where I was..."

"I do indeed have a room. Second floor, Room 17, has a nice view over the Alley. Enjoy."

Tom tossed a small key to Harry, the boy deftly catching it from the air. A Seeker, Tom thought, Harry most definitely would be a Seeker if he played Quidditch. Or a Chaser, either would work.

* * *

In Room 17 of the Leaky Cauldron, Harry stared out through the window as he contemplated. This arrangement would not work forever. In the summer, he would have to find decent lodging somewhere...perhaps Remus had a place he could stay? He was not going back to the Dursleys, Prince Orphanage, or his parents...dependency was weakness for him, and he would have none of it.

* * *

Review as you view, as always.


End file.
